"C'mon Gladys, take the shot!" Simon shouted over the music in the bar, almost directly in my ear. I picked up the over-poured glass of tequila and threw my head back as the fire slid down my throat.
"blaarrghh," I winced and vigorously shook my head in pain. "Oh for fuck sake, is that bottom shelf shit? That was horrid, just horrid!" I danced around exaggerating my disgust.
Simon slapped the bar in front of us and laughed uproariously. "Bitch, its all downhill from here on out, get used to bottom shelf," He signalled the bartender, and before too long a pair of vodka cran graced our presence. I picked mine up and gingerly took the straw to my mouth for relief. I looked over at Simon and saw him turn and lean on the bar to scan the crowd.
"Happy Birthday Sal, 26, it's your night,"
I looked at Simon's preoccupied face before turning to cruise the men on the dance floor. It was indeed my 26th birthday, and unlike the messy drama that accompanied my quarter-life bash, I opted for a night out with my bestie Simon. It was just supposed to be a couple drinks at the bar with no real plan but if I was being completely honest, like most nights I head out with Simon, I was hoping he'd finally take my hand and drag me off to bed.
Sal was short for Salim, and I haven't had the easiest time in the boy department since moving to the city. There were more gays here than where I grew up in the burbs, but - well, I dunno. I could run down a laundry list of things I hated about myself that made me undesirable. I'm too skinny, I'm a bit of a nerd, maybe my full name turns people off, or my skin-tone? My dad was Sri Lankan, my mom Canadian, so my skin was more a light caramel - and frequently the source of fetishization online. Was I Asian, or Hispanic, or a hairless Italian? Every once in awhile, my dick would lead the way and I'd hook up with the least racist guy on the apps, but it never turned into a relationship, or even a reoccurring fuck.
But I guess it wouldn't be growing up gay if you weren't constantly wondering what was wrong with you. Shrug. I mean, I had some things going for me too. I had clear skin, 6ft tall, and I liked my slender frame. My chest was hairless, which made me look younger, but it also made me a little insecure about how hairy my ass was. Because, like - you'd see me naked from the front, and it'd be like a young guy with normal pubes and leg hair, but to turn around, to see that strip of hair cutting between my cheeks, and the fur that covered them, it just seemed imbalanced, if that makes any sense. Hey, my hang ups, right? Whatever they make fun of you for in the gym showers growing up, is your own cross to bear I suppose.
The thing that I was always trying to figure out though, was why Simon never made the move to fuck me. He'd been one of my best friends since moving to the city and I've seen him go out and hook up with just about anyone and anything, so why not me?
Simon was shorter than me, with a sturdy build, and I've seen him shirtless- he's got some visible abs going on underneath those polos he always wore. He had dirty blonde hair kept in a close crop to disguise a little thinning, and a good smile. A standard issue white gay boy approaching his thirties who wasn't pretty and young, or ripped and completely hot. He fucked anything that moved, so why didn't he ever see me doing jumping jacks to get his attention? Gay friendship is weird.
In any case, I was glad I had decided to just hang with him on my birthday, because we were able to hit the dance floor, drink, and flirt with boys without having folks pull us in all these other directions, tending to drama. We had initially planned to bar hop, but were having too much fun to leave Jerry's.
Towards the end of the evening, I was at the bar settling up the tab when I spied Simon kissing a tall young guy near the back room. I was still catching my breath from dancing, when my heart jumped into my throat, and I felt jealousy seep into frame. What did that other guy have that I didn't? The alcohol that had fogged my brain was fuelling the lingering desire and self-doubt, Simon probably never saw me as sexual, maybe that was it. I looked around for someone to make out with, to give Simon a little show, but could only see my terrible ex heading into the bathroom. My eyes widened and alarm bells went off. I darted over to Simon and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Dude, MALCOM is here!" Simon lifted his face from his make-out partner to give me a quizzical look. "You know, MALCOM!" His eyes got big, and he extricated himself from the other boy.
"Oh shit, did you wanna go then?" He turned to guy he'd been kissing. "Sorry, its an ex thing. I've gotta," Simon motioned towards the bar.
"Don't worry, we're paid up," I called to him as I headed towards the side door. Simon gave his boy toy a pert wave before ambling outside into the alley beside me.
"You sure that was him?"
"Yuppp. He grew his hair out, but I still know that stupid forehead, ugh. I hate him so much,"
"Yeah, well..." Simon trailed off as we went deeper into the alley. "Did you have fun tonight up until that point?"
I let out a breath I'd been holding and laughed. "Yesss, omg! I can barely feel my face right now," Simon sidled up to me, putting his arm around my waist. I draped my arm over his shoulder as we stumbled past dumpsters talking about all the different guys we'd hoped to hook up with. My dick started to thicken in my shorts as his arm gripped me. Maybe tonight?
"whoaaaa, hold up, hold up."
Simon stopped dead in his tracks and pulled me from taking another step. He silently nodded his head in the direction we were heading, towards a man who was standing by the fence completely naked.
My eyes nearly fell out of my head, and I had to cover my mouth for fear of busting out in laughter. How fucking drunk were we? Was this a mirage? And I guess in hindsight, how stupid were we to think that by stopping and standing still, that this naked guy wasn't going to notice us there?
He turned to look at us, and with a simple nod of his head, spoke:
"Hey"
The guy just stood there completely casual without a stitch of clothes on, and without making a move to hide. I exchanged glances with Simon who had an open mouthed smile on his face, a bit in awe of the situation. He folded his arms and brought a balled fist to his mouth, pondering what he would say. I looked to the shadows and saw another man sat on the lid of a recycling bin. He was around the same age as all of us, wore jeans, t-shirt and a simple jacket. Like the naked guy, he also had a trimmed beard, but wore a drooping side cut. Our nude friend had his head completely buzzed, a dark stubble topping him off.
But like, what the hell am I talking about hair for? At least the stuff on his head.
